


Palm Circles

by astropixie



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Gentleness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Indulgent, Touch-Starved, bb-8 is a little shit, contains all my headcanons, highly psychic ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astropixie/pseuds/astropixie
Summary: For the prompt: Ben has been touch starved for years now. But he might also find too much immediate touch to be overwhelming - so what little steps do he and Poe take to get back in the habit of casual or even intimate touch?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the prompt: "Ben has been touch starved for years now. But he might also find too much immediate touch to be overwhelming - so what little steps do he and Poe take to get back in the habit of casual or even intimate touch? Gentle hand holding, stroking Benji's hair, nose nuzzling, Ben falling asleep on Poe's shoulder...?"
> 
> I think I went a few steps back in progress even from these suggestions but I really enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoy too <333

Ben pressed his wrist against his mouth to stop the _pathetic_ grunts and way too fast breathing as he paced the cargo hold, having just run away from something he _wanted_ , and now Poe was alone and confused in the cockpit wondering if his breath was really that bad.

The cargo boxes shook, exactly like Ben’s hands, and he sank to the deck whispering, “Get it together, stop it, stop ruining everything…”

“Ben?”

Oh no. Poe. Poe wanted to know what was wrong—Ben curled his fingers into fists, biting his lip to stop talking—

 _What did I do?_   Poe wondered. His footsteps stopped short a few feet of him, watching as Ben clawed the filthy deck for support. “So—“ he cast about for a joke, “ _Was it that bad? When was the last time you kissed someone?”_ but wavered, _what if I make things worse_ —

“I’m sorry,” Ben managed to say. He ducked his head, biting his lip again.

“Hey. Just tell me what’s up,” Poe said.

Ben felt it coming—a warm hand descending, coming closer, simultaneously a comforting warm cup of caf and a hot iron, closer—Poe touched his back—

Ben yelped, surprising both of them, and sank even further down.

Poe pulled away, and Ben sensed his confusion, his _hurt._ Hurt by Ben once again.

They both looked up as the cargo boxes shook once more, threatening to fall.

Poe backed away.  “Either there’s a problem with the onboard stabilizers or that’s you.”

“It’s me.”

 _Have you tried not destroying the equipment we just got?_ Poe inwardly quipped but he said, “What do you need?”

What do you need?

Ben shut his eyes, overwhelmed again, and the boxes of parts went _flying._

Poe shouted, diving out of the cargo hold as everything hit the bulkheads and clattered to the deck, metal and parts and circuitry bouncing everywhere. Small parts chimed and tinked against metal, a rainstorm of ruined equipment, taking forever to stop rolling around after hitting the ground.

BB-8 broke the silence with a squeal, rolling in and making what Ben thought was an excessively winding path through the mess, leaning heavily from one side to the other to avoid things.

“I’m sorry,” Ben said. He sat on his heels, looking around, not sure where to start fixing this.

Poe peeked inside from his hiding place behind the hatch. “I’m not mad--“ _your mother will be though,_ “I’m just confused and you need to tell me what’s going on.” Poe made his way inside, stepping over parts carefully to crouch beside him and wave BB-8 away as the droid scolded, flailing among all the broken parts. “I—did I misread the situation? No—you kissed me! And you don’t misread situations.”

Ben snorted. No, he knew Poe wanted him to make the first move. He could read everyone’s mind except his own, apparently.

“I…overreacted a little,” Ben said.

Poe nodded, a grin starting at the understatement. “Why?”

But Ben could hear he was still wondering _…is it me?_

Something about the fact that Poe, too, had moments of self-doubt made him say it. “I’m not used to anyone touching me.”

Poe’s mind clouded and Ben knew, the rejection was coming, he was too weird, this was the only person crazy enough to like him and he blew it—what a sad and freakish thing to say, even if it was true—

“We’ll get you used to it again,” Poe said. He looked at the parts strewn on the deck and chose a piece of a support strut for an X-wing, a short metal beam, handing it to Ben.

He took it.

Poe smiled, but Ben could sense the sadness behind it even without the Force. “Little things, small steps. Like getting used to flying with a low-oxygen mix.”

“So I’m the same as an emergency procedure for total system breakdown,” Ben summarized flatly.

Poe winced, but nodded. “I’m going to take the other end of this, okay?” He took the other end so they held the fractured strut in between them, and moved it up and down, almost a stroking motion—like he had gone for earlier when he tried to touch his back.

“It’s like we’re holding hands already,” Poe said awkwardly into the silence. The morbid silence of Ben wondering when things had gotten this bad, why Poe bothered with him or how he had any clue what to do, and the shame that this ridiculous exercise made him feel better.

They tried more things like that over the new few days on the way back to base, things that filled Ben with hopeful shame but Poe didn’t mind doing in lieu of actually touching.

They catalogued everything from the unlucky cargo boxes into four groups: miraculously fine after slamming into a wall and falling twenty feet; in need of minor repair; in need of major repair; and unsalvageable. Ben grimaced at yet another navicomputer being beyond BB-8’s skill and moved for the “unsalvageable” pile, lugging the boxy machine.

“Hey, let’s look at that,” Poe said, getting up from his work and half-jogging across the cargo hold to join him.

Ben offered him the broken computer with two hands, and as Poe reached for it, their fingers briefly touched.

He looked away, taking his hand back quickly, holding it to his side with his other hand. But Poe had other ideas.

“Let’s hand it back and forth a few times.” Poe waggled his eyebrows as if he were suggesting having sex on top of it.

Ben shook his head, hoping his hair hid his face. “Poe, we have to get through all this, there isn’t time—“

Poe thrust the computer back and, surprised, Ben took it. He brushed Poe’s knuckles in the process and nearly dropped it.

“This is a bad idea.” He held the computer to his chest, staring down at it.

“It’s broken anyway, right?” Poe pointed out. He took the computer again, deliberately brushing over Ben’s hand (he breathed deep to center himself.) “What’s dropping it going to do?”

Ben reached out, and Poe grinned.

The three of them worked to patch up parts that needed minor repairs first. BB-8 delighted in telling Ben blow-by-blow accounts of the repairs, essentially beeping “ _Now_ I have to solder this pocket joint. And _now_ I have to cut this to size,” in little passive-aggressive buzzes every few minutes.

“I’m about to repurpose your audio circuits for this targeting computer,” Ben snapped, dropping his multitool.

“Tone it down, both of you,” Poe said.

BB-8 blatted at Ben, this time for the mean threat, and Ben held his head in his hands, knowing everything the little droid said was right.  

“I said knock it off. Why don’t you go work somewhere else for a bit?”

BB-8 made a rude noise and rolled off.

Poe stood from his work and sat down across from Ben at his makeshift workbench. _He looks like he’s going to kill my droid…_ “Are you okay?”

Ben wanted to reassure him that he wouldn’t really do anything to BB-8…for now…but he still had a hard time admitting to Poe, of all people, just how much he overheard all the time. “No,” Ben said, muffled from his hands on his face.

Poe wanted to reach out and pull his hand away from his face, which…the thought thrilled Ben, he wanted that, he wanted Poe to touch him and to feel their hands together but no, he was too messed up, a total engine failure breakdown low-oxygen mix, he couldn’t—

“Can I try something?” Poe asked.

Ben nodded from behind his hands.

Again he could sense Poe’s hand approaching, something both comforting and scary, and he tensed—

Something cold and small ghosted over his skin, and he peeked through his fingers—the multitool handle. Poe gently touched him with the multitool instead of his hand…. _prime him for the real thing and hope this isn’t stupid_ , Poe was thinking.

Ben lowered his hands, and Poe drew little circles and swirling patterns on his palms, tickling a little, making him smile, glowing from all this attention, these patient motions—how could Poe want to spend this much time--

“Poe,” Ben said quietly, “I like this, but we should get back to work.”

“Do you actually want that?” Poe asked, pausing. He put the tool down, intending to switch to using a finger. Ben watched his hand hungrily.

“No,” Ben said, offering his palm.

“Didn’t think so.” Poe’s hand hovered over his, and Ben watched the space between palm and finger close intently, thinking it was like a fiery meteor impacting on the pockmarked lunar surface of his scars when the barest tip of his forefinger made contact.

He bit his lip, and Poe calmly made the same swirling motions as before, up and down his fingers, going over the thin white lines of scar tissue. Poe’s finger wasn’t as smooth as the multitool, the skin grabbed from callouses and sweat and everything in the room started to shake again as Ben’s breath hitched.

“Too much?” Poe said, stopping.

Ben nodded and looked away, hating himself.

Poe stood and nearly patted him on the back again by accident, just by habit of what he would do for any friend, but remembered at the last second, and they returned to work.

Ben got distracted a few minutes later, tracing the path Poe’s finger had made around his palm. He stopped when he realized Poe was grinning at him.  

“I liked what you were doing,” Ben said defensively.

“I can see that.”

Ben picked up the multitool and went back to work on the targeting computer. “How did you know to try that?”

Poe shrugged and lit up a miniature welding torch, the sparks lighting his face. _How to say this without being too insulting..._ “I’m good at fixing things. A droid like BB-8 for my astromech, I have to be good at fixing things.”

Ben laughed.

“And with a boyfriend like you I’m going to get even better.”


End file.
